


Midnight Pick-up Picnic

by gandalfthesassy



Series: The Monkees Reader-Inserts [12]
Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Adorkable, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Midnight Picnic, Police Chase, Stargazing, Swearing, Watching Sky, but other than that this is pretty basic, late night, the worst that happens is the reader drinks a beer and makes a Sexual reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 21:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14145333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gandalfthesassy/pseuds/gandalfthesassy
Summary: You speed out of the city with Davy Jones in the seat beside you. The two of you have just stolen a fan's pickup truck, their keys still in the ignition. Where could you be going this time of night?Rated T for swearing, some description of sensual physical touch, and one (1) sexual reference, but nothing like that happens in the story, nor is it implied to have happened. Based on vague things I learned about Davy--1) he was pretty straight-laced in his early Monkee days, especially compared to the others, and 2) he swore like a sailor. Every time there's some kind of behind-the-scenes recording in the studio, he drops at least one f-bomb or otherwise. What a wild combination, huh?





	Midnight Pick-up Picnic

Somewhere in the heart of the city, the Monkees had just wrapped up a show and their fans had busted the police barriers to overtake them.

But you were speeding out of it, in a fan’s pickup truck, its keys left behind in the ignition.

In the seat beside you, Davy Jones pressed his arms against the car’s interior, fearful of crashing into something. You, on the other hand, had your hands wrapped firmly around the wheel and your foot pressed urgently on the gas pedal. A wave of fangirls surged around you, most unaware that one of their idols was escaping before their eyes. The other three Monkees had made it into the car with those comfy naugahyde seats, but you and Davy had been pushed back by a sudden group of girls that were _way_ too young for Davy (or you, frankly). So when one of you spotted a group of fans trying to leave, you did the nicest thing you could and borrowed their car as they were swallowed again by the fans. And here you were, heading anywhere but directly into danger.

“We better bring this back!” Davy yelled over the clunking of the car and the screams from the crowd, which had started to quiet down as you passed the city limits. Unfortunately, as you exited, a supposedly dormant police car woke up from behind a billboard and fell in behind you.

“Those kids won’t find us,” you retorted, “they’re dead for all I care.”

“They’re just kids! They’re, they were younger than us!”

“Davy!” you screamed. “Hold on!” You spotted something waving gently in the silvery moonlight--rows of corn, ready to harvest. As soon as you got close, you turned off your headlights and swerved the car through a break in the fence. The pickup surged through the tall, rustling stalks until it spluttered to a stop halfway through.

Behind you, the cop car kept on driving on the pavement, but it stopped. You could see a figure get out as you turned off the car. Blue shirt, slacks, gun on each hip, you envisioned a five o'clock shadow on the man's face. You steeled yourself as you spoke.

“They’re following us,” you whispered.

“ _Shit_ ,” you heard Davy mutter. “(y/n), are you crazy?! We stole that poor fan’s truck, wrecked it, and now nobody knows where we are!”

“Will you be  _quiet_ , Dave?” you snapped. “I, I panicked, okay?”

“Who the fuck panics by driving their car into a cornfield!?”

You slammed your hand over his mouth and gestured to the corn outside. He looked confused, so you whispered that you should remain silent and still until the cop had gone. Underneath Davy’s seat, you could see the corner of a dark blue blanket poke out. You immediately pulled it free and draped it over the both of you. Even in a city of that size, there was no guarantee the cop would care enough to search.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, you glimpsed the glare of a flashlight pass over the car and blanket. Then it disappeared. You poked your head out to see the cop disappear through the corn. You rolled down the window as quietly as you could to poke your whole body out. Davy tried to chastise you but you watched intently as the cop walked over the trail you’d left with the car. One of his hands absentmindedly brushed a stalk waving in the night breeze. Moments later, he got back into his patrol car and drove off, his siren and lights quiet.

“Is he gone?” whispered Davy. You slipped back into the car and lifted up the blanket. In the little light spilling into the car, you could see Davy’s face wrinkle with terrified worry.

“It’s okay, man,” you told him with a laugh. “He fell for the blanket thing. Didn’t even open the door. Or he thought we were just like, lovers out for the night and we’d fallen asleep. We’re safe for now.” He let the blanket cling to his shoulders as he wrapped it around himself. He avoided your eyes. “You okay? That was pretty intense.”

“I just...I’m sorry, it’s nothing.”

“No, what’s up?”

“Well. First of all. I never thought you’d be the type to _steal a truck_.”

“I didn’t either, but it was either steal or get trampled.”

“Then secondly, _I’m_ not the type to steal a truck.”

“ _You_ didn’t. You were my unwitting accomplice. I’m pretty sure there’s a law in this state that would say you’re a hostage.”

“Oh _no!_ ” Davy gasped dramatically. “Please (y/n) please, don’t do anything, I’ll tell you whatever you want! Just please let me stay young and pretty!” You snorted and looked out the back window.

“Oh wow,” you marveled. Davy looked too. “These guys came prepared. They’ve got sleeping bags and food and camping shit with them. Okay, now I feel kinda bad.”

“Midnight picnic?” he suggested, an opportunistic bent to his question. You glanced down at your watch, ticking away with its little black hands. “Come on, it must be close enough now, it should count.”

“Not even close. It’s just after eleven.”

“It counts. Come on,” he threw open the door, snatched up the blue blanket, and ran around to climb in the bed of the truck.

“Glad to see you’re over your moral crisis,” you commented as you joined him, giving him space to lay down the blanket. The moon lit the field around you and the truck, unhindered by clouds or even the city lights in the distance.

“We’ll get it back to them somehow,” he told you as he glanced in one of the bags. “Holy shit.”

“What’s up?” you climbed up and sat down beside him on the blanket.

“Look at this!” He produced what just happened to be your favorite brand of beer. “They weren’t camping, they were just party-crashers.”

“Isn’t everyone a party-crasher at a concert?”

“They could’ve been in town by chance. Might not have been someone who went to our show.”

“See? Not so bad of us at all. Gimme.” You held a hand out for the bottle. He handed it over quickly and dug through the bag again. “Can you like find a bottle opener in there?” He held up one that was attached to the outside. “Good thing they thought ahead.” You popped the cap off your bottle.

“Good thing we didn’t,” he mumbled as he pulled out three peanut butter sandwiches packed in plastic wrap. You frowned as he set them between you. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot you don’t drink,” you admitted. “Kinda sucks when everyone else’s drinking and you’re sober.”

“That’s alright, I’ve seen people drink before. I’m not completely out of touch.”

“Would you like a sip?” Instead of declining, he glanced from the mouth of the bottle to your face. “It’s not gonna kill you, Dave.”

“Okay, _one sip_ ,” he relented, taking the bottle from you and looking down through the mouth of it. “It smells...interesting.”

“I love it ‘cause it reminds me of going camping with my uncle and aunt, when I was like seven.” He glanced up at you, surprised. “Auntie used to drink this stuff. She always gave me good advice. Just, the smell of her perfume mixed with this beer, it reminds me of good times.”

He finally got over his hesitation and sipped it. He managed to finish the sip without gagging. But his face scrunched up in disgust. “You okay?” He shook his head. “Is it alright?” He shook his head again, holding the bottle out to you. “Aw, okay. You can spit it over the side if it's really bad.”

“Mm-mm,” he narrowed his eyes and swallowed as you took it from him. “Agh. Goes down rough.”

“Not a beer fan?”

“Not this beer, no.”

“Had no idea Davy Jones _swallowed_ ,” you ribbed him and drank the beer, sitting against one side of the truck bed.

“(y/n)!”

You paused long enough to ask: “What?”

“I’m...don’t say that. That’s _naughty_.”

“I always say that kind of stuff,” you pointed out. “But if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I’ll keep it kid-friendly. ‘Cause you’re a kid.”

“I am, you know,” he agreed.

You sipped your beer before you responded. “You’re twenty years old.”

“I’m a kid! Look at me!”

“Well, you won’t be forever.” He was unwrapping one of the sandwiches as you told him this.

The only noise, besides the soft rustling of the corn, was the unwrapping and crumpling of the plastic wrap. He bit into the sandwich once, twice. Suddenly he was halfway done, a few crumbs interrupting his otherwise clean-cut outfit. You snorted and threw your head back when he stared at you in surprise. He chuckled and kept eating. Through the food, he explained: “I didn’t realize I was this hungry.”

“Hey, Dave, don’t talk with your mouth full,” you scolded him, pointing the nearly-empty beer bottle at him. “I can’t do the kiss of life, so don’t make yourself choke.” You just so happened to be looking at his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. You took in a sudden but quiet breath. Either this beer had a higher alcohol content than you remembered, or the moon was working its magic, because you were suddenly very aware of just how close Davy was.

“Well I’ll eat slower, how’s that?” he grinned at you. He did so, chewing carefully as he gazed up at the stars. You watched him as you drained the last few sips of beer. You weren’t drunk, that was for sure, but that little voice in your brain was much louder than normal--the one that seemed to think that when you go to the top of a very tall building, you should jump. The anti-conscience, you reasoned. You laughed lightly at this revelation. Davy glanced back at you. “That reaction was a bit delayed there, (y/n).”

“Wasn’t laughing at you,” you retorted, but you followed it up with, “though if you were trying to be funny I’d probably laugh ‘cause…you’re funny.” Somewhere deep in your brain, another voice cried out, _Stop talking, just let him be_. But thankfully for you, he laughed and dropped his head bashfully. “You are!”

“It’s the whole child actor thing,” he dismissed your compliment. “The charisma, it just sort of goes along with it.”

You frowned. “Davy Jones,” you began, sitting yourself up and leaning towards him, “you are not funny because you’re special. Wait.” You narrowed your eyes, you’d gotten ahead of yourself. He watched you as you racked your brain for the right words.

“How drunk are you?” he asked, only half joking.

“You’re funny ‘cause you just...you smile and people think you’re great. You crack a joke and people laugh ‘cause you’re naturally funny. You could just glance sweetly in any direction and you’d have people kissing your feet. And somehow I’m not like…jealous of that? I think I’m just happy that I know you, and we’re good friends, and that you think I’m...pretty okay.”

“You’re better than that, (y/n),” he scooted closer to you. “You’re wild, you’re wicked smart and God, you’re clever. You’re always on top of things.”

“So to speak,” you snickered.

“And you make jokes when you’re nervous.”

You blinked at him. “I’m not nervous.”

“Come on, (y/n). You always joke when you’re worried or nervous or…uncomfortable.” Panic set into his face as he asked: “Are you alright? Should we maybe head back into town?”

“No, I’m…” You trailed off as he looked at you. “I’m happy. That’s weird, isn’t it? I haven’t been this giddy since I was a teenager. Just being here with you, I’m really happy.” You searched his face for something, but you weren’t sure what it was. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, his mouth relaxed and smiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. I've been meaning to say this whole time, I think you’re beautiful. In this light, you look divine.” It was your turn to blush. “I mean that.” His hands took yours, his thumb running over the back of your hand. He usually did this to calm you down or reassure you, but something about that moment after all that had transpired made it incredibly intimate.

You had to stop this.

“How do I know you’re not just trying to get in my pants?” He went quiet for a moment. Did you offend him? You tried to get him to look at you but failed. “Davy, I really like you, but I know you’ve got that whole reputation thing. And don’t tell me I’m different, or not like the girls you’ve dated.”

“I’ve never thought about anyone as much as I’ve thought of you,” he murmured, all trace of joking gone from his eyes. “I don’t...this isn’t about a conquest, or having a good time. I value you so much, (y/n). Whether or not you believe me, that’s up to you. But I love you so dearly, and if you only want to be friends, I understand that. You did say we were good friends.”

You welled up, blinking hard a few times. “I’ve wanted to date you for about five months,” you admitted with an embarrassed laugh. “I just, I got scared of my feelings and I thought you wouldn’t want someone like me.” You wiped an eye with your wrist.

“Someone like you?” he echoed. You nodded. He took your face in both hands as he declared: “You’re everything that’s good in the world. Someone like you only comes around so many times. I’d be crazy if I thought I should let you go.” You sniffled. “You feel so strongly, (y/n). I love how deeply you care.”

You smiled through your tears of joy. You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, his hands drifted from your face to your shoulders. You leaned in to kiss him again, more firmly, and you helped guide him onto his back. The two of you moved slowly, your mouths pressing and dancing with no intention of going beyond this simple (but exciting) position. His hands slid around your body as you kept yourself propped up above him. He didn’t touch anywhere terribly sensitive or inappropriate, but you tracked where his hands were and you could feel yourself growing more turned on the more he felt your body. You transitioned from his lips to his neck, finding a particularly sensitive spot that made him almost cry from how much it got him.

This went on for about an hour. Neither of you felt inclined to take the touching beyond where it’d been happening, or to remove any clothing. You’d go back to town eventually, but by the time the two of you pulled out the sleeping bags and crawled into them, neither of you had the energy to walk. And the truck wasn’t exactly in a position to just drive out.

You watched the stars twinkle as Davy scooted up next to you, silently asking to cuddle. You accepted. You turned on your side and draped your arm over his waist as he turned his back to you. The two of you fell into similar breathing patterns. Except for a coyote calling out in the distance, everything was nearly silent. There wasn’t any wind to rustle the corn, no police sirens or shouting managers or agents or producers. It was just you two.

Sleep began to compete with what little energy you had left. You pressed a soft kiss to Davy’s neck and he shivered a little, either at the temperature or at the surprise contact. But you could feel him relax right afterwards, and he murmured sleepily, “I wish we could stay here forever.”

“Me too,” you replied at the same volume. If he said anything more, you didn’t hear.

When you woke up, those cops would be long gone, if they were even still there. As you drifted off, you could almost hear your name and Davy's on the tongues of the other Monkees and their crew. They'd find you, eventually, or you'd walk back into town and reappear. That could wait.

For now, nothing else mattered. Just you, him, and the soft cacophony of night.

**Author's Note:**

> so this took longer than expected. hi! while you're here, go listen to the podcasts Violet Beach, Dining in the Void, LEARN, and The Lavender Ladies. plot twist: i'm in at least one of them, please go support them and listen.


End file.
